Chapter 4: Questioning Gender

No wonder she always walked with a stiff gait—she was afraid of pain. Concerned, I asked, “Have you had surgery?”

Liping glanced nervously at the boy’s father, afraid he might overhear, then leaned close to whisper in my ear, “Not yet. The doctor said this isn’t a gynecological issue. The injured area needs repair, and since it involves gynecology, they had to arrange for it to be done in the general ward.”

Her words made me take note: there were three beds to the left and four to the right; my bed was number 19, so they were all close together.

Hearing about the repair made me curious, so I asked, “How exactly will they fix it?”

Liping smiled mysteriously and whispered, “I’m still a virgin. If it’s damaged and not repaired, when I find a man later, he might think I’ve been with someone else.”

I was originally a man; I had no idea about such things. It was the first time I’d heard this and felt very curious. Seeing that the ward was crowded, I spread my hands regretfully and said, “Too bad there’s no place to look; otherwise, I’d like to see what needs fixing.”

Liping smiled but seemed puzzled by my words. Sitting beside her bed, she awkwardly said, “Afraid you don’t have one? We’ll talk about it later.”

The conversation stalled; she clearly didn’t want me to know more. Could I press further? I was just about to get into bed when two men—one tall and one short—entered and asked, “Who’s the boy?”

The boy’s mother and father looked puzzled and stepped forward, with the father asking, “What’s the matter?”

The tall man with a horse-like face and a bulky frame, resembling a frog, paused thoughtfully and said, “What exactly happened to your daughter?”

The mother hurried to explain briefly, “The main issue is she doesn’t recognize her parents. Don’t you think that’s heartbreaking?”

The tall man looked back, glanced at me, and a girl no older than fifteen came forward, introducing herself: “I’m Jin Guang, the main person responsible for this accident. Do you have any requests or thoughts you want to share?”

His question left me dumbfounded. I was speechless; no one had explained the situation to me. I simply pointed to the mother.

Jin Guang met with a cold reception and felt uneasy. This was a matter of compensation, but he forced a smile and looked away before asking, “Madam, do you have any requests?”

The mother, thinking the worst, said, “I didn’t expect this. Could the surgery have affected her brain? Raising a girl this age takes so much effort—only a mother would understand. You need to find out exactly what happened.”

Jin Guang didn’t dare slack off. He followed their instructions and hurried away with his team.

Liping furrowed her brow in confusion, pondering for a long time before approaching me and whispering, “Aren’t they your real family?”

I didn’t want to hide anything but spoke quietly, careful that no one else overheard, “I don’t think so... not before.”

“How strange! It’s all so odd!” Liping whispered back. “Let’s find a time to have you examined.”

Her words struck a chord. It really was strange—just a small difference, yet the entire person had changed. As a man, I’d never seen a woman’s body from the inside, and now it had become my own. This curiosity wasn’t just Liping’s; I felt it too. Without much thought, I agreed.

Liping took her phone from her handbag, tapped a few buttons, and asked, “What’s your number?”

Her question left me stumped. I didn’t even have a phone in my mind yet and could only wave my hand helplessly.

The mother pulled a phone from her bag, glanced at it, and said, “There really is something wrong with your brain if you don’t even know whether you have a phone. Here, this is yours. Look at it carefully—do you recognize it?”

I took the phone, feeling delighted. It was the first time I’d seen such a beautiful woman’s phone, luxuriously decorated. I liked it immediately, though I didn’t even know how to turn it on.

Liping sat right beside my bed, and I immediately noticed her feminine aura, different from my own. Her warmth made it easy for me to accept her.

“Come, I’ll teach you!”

She took my hand, pressed my fingerprint to unlock the phone. The screen lit up, showing a boy’s avatar—identical to me—with golden hair and sky-blue eyes. She taught me to open the phone’s camera, and the person in the live image was far less handsome than the avatar: wearing a hospital gown, hair unkempt, stained with blood.

Following her guidance, I began to understand call logs, contacts, and icons—learning a little and then tapping nonstop.

Liping held my shoulder with one hand, watching with me. I felt no estrangement, as if we had known each other for a long time.

Two doctors in white coats and Jin Guang came over. The lead doctor pointed at the mother and asked me, “Do you recognize her?”

I kept my eyes on the phone, not looking at anyone, and answered honestly, “Just met her. Never seen her before.”

The mother was shocked and cried out, “This is your mother! How can you not even recognize your mom?”

The lead doctor, unsatisfied with my answer, asked again, pointing at the boy’s father, “Do you recognize this person?”

I didn’t need to look; I understood their meaning and gave the same answer as before.

Jin Guang grew increasingly suspicious, thinking I was pretending for their benefit. He asked an absurd question: “Do you recognize yourself?”

If there hadn’t been so many people around, I might have snapped, “Who doesn’t recognize themselves unless their brain is damaged?”

Jin Guang was frustrated and found no answer. The lead doctor was also troubled. Behind him, another doctor handed the mother the medical records, which, besides name and medical history, prominently showed blood type B.

The mother’s eyes widened, and she said something puzzling: “Is she really my daughter? Just test the blood type, and you’ll know.”

The lead doctor thought it unnecessary—how could a child not recognize their own parents? The only plausible explanation was memory loss.

But Jin Guang didn’t think that way. If the family requested tests, he had to comply.

Given the situation, the lead doctor asked the boy’s father for his opinion, then looked at me and asked, “Do you agree to a blood test?”

“Whether to test or not is their idea. But testing once is good—just in case…” I thought and nodded.

The other doctors and people’s words no longer mattered; the decision was final. The lead doctor took the medical records from the mother and left.

Before leaving, Jin Guang told the mother, “Don’t worry; we’ll do our best to restore your child’s health.”

His words were well-received without dispute. The boy’s parents nodded in agreement and glanced at me, saying, “We’re going downstairs to eat. We’ll bring you something up!”

I said nothing and kept staring at the phone screen, tapping away.

Liping hugged my shoulder tightly and asked, “What’s your number?” Seeing I didn’t know how to enter it, she opened a new contact, typed her number in, and pressed a button. The phone rang, and I heard the ringtone for the first time. Looking around, she taught me to tap the button and said, “Now you can answer calls!”

I followed her instructions, finding it quite fun. We exchanged smiles and became good wardmates.

Liping wanted to see photos of me as a child, though I wasn’t sure if there were any. She helped me open the gallery, and we flicked through the images together, both eager to understand who this boy really was.

One photo caught our attention. It showed a little boy just one year old. The photographer had taken the picture to proudly mark the birth of a boy, with bold blue letters reading: “Shota’s One-Year Commemoration.” His hair was golden, and his lively blue eyes were strikingly beautiful.

Liping looked at me and asked, “Are you a man?”

That was a hard question to answer. I used to be a genuine man, but now I was Shota, without masculine traits. Even I wasn’t sure if Shota was a boy or a girl.

“The mother insists Shota is her daughter. So why is there a boy’s photo from when Shota was a baby?” I was perplexed.

“Why hide this from me?” Liping stared intently, demanding an answer.

“It’s not fair. I’ve been so honest, and yet I’m suspected?” I didn’t want to lose a newfound friend, so I chose not to reveal all the memories stored in my brain.

It was truly baffling. Liping was astonished and still didn’t believe it. Then she raised a new question: “Why is your hair golden? Why are your eyes so blue?”

Her question left me speechless. How could I explain? My hair used to be black, and so were my eyes. My name wasn’t Shota, nor was I a woman. I was twenty-four years older than Shota, with my own name...

For a skeptic, it was merely something to smile at. But Liping had another theory: “You might not know how to use a phone, that’s true. But since this is Shota’s body, it should be a boy’s.”

I told her everything I knew. What else could I say? I had to admit, “I’ve become a genuine woman!”

Liping covered her mouth with her hand, unable to hold back her laughter. She found it amusing and actually laughed out loud.

Her laughter left me feeling quite embarrassed. What would it feel like for a man to become a woman? I remembered that I was once Qu Shilai, a man in his forties, with a daughter in her twenties—older than Shota by several years. Now, I had become Shota, only fifteen years old.